


Just Like Home

by grimparadigms



Series: widojest week 2019 [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 06:59:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19718560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimparadigms/pseuds/grimparadigms
Summary: Caleb plans a small surprise party for a little, blue tiefling who has been feeling rather homesick.





	Just Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Widojest Week!!! I've anxiously been counting the days and it's finally here.

“Why are you doing this again?”

Caleb was on a wooden chair, silver curtains and woven light gold decorations thrown over his shoulder. He leaned forward as he attempted for the fourth time to hang the feather light material onto the nail in the far corner. Really he should have asked Beauregard to do this for him—he had far better reach. 

“It’s,” he let out a slight gasp as the chair wobbled, “-a surprise. For Jester.”

“Like it’s sweet, what you’re doing and all, but like this is too much effort for one person.”

He sighed in relief as he got the fabric to stay, finally able to weave the golden leaf decorations around the curtains. At least one side of the room was adorned with the soft reminders of the chateau; golds and silvers and whites hanging delicately off the wall, hiding the window from view, only a gentle stream of light breaking through. 

Caleb held out his hand for Beauregard to help him down. She was anything but gentle, yanking him from the chair, causing him to stumble to his knees. He shoots her a glare before rolling his shoulders and sighing. 

“You offered to help,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, yeah.” She shuffled her feet on the newly rolled out carpet, a pale blue velvet that had taken over an hour to find in Rosohna. Caleb had almost pilfered something smaller while the owner had waxed poetic of his exceptional carpets and highly sought after tapestries. He had scoffed at the prices, far out of his range, and bought all that he could afford. “I’m not saying she isn’t _worth_ the trouble. I’m saying that this is a massive undertaking to cheer up one person, and I fucking love Jester, man.”

“Beauregard,” he takes on a serious tone, looking around the room—past her tired, judgemental face. “She does so much for us, every day. The _least_ we could do for her is make her smile.”

“She smiles,” Beau grimaces a she says it. 

“For others.”

“That’s not the worst thing…”

He’s already tired and doesn’t understand why Beauregard wants to argue semantics over what makes Jester Lavorre genuinely happy. With the stress of their recent failed missions, Nott slipping deeper into drinking, and the constant threat of war; he could only see the pain behind her forced smiles. Caleb only wanted to give her a reason to smile for herself, even if it only lasted a few hours. That little tiefling had earned it.

“Fuck.” She runs her hand over her face, expression softening. “Guess I’ll start making drinks.”

“Ja, I’ll finish up in here.”

She’s at the door, hand hovering above the handle before she turns back to him, her blue eyes lit with curiosity. “Caleb…. You really love her don’t you?”

All of his energy zaps away as his shoulders stiffen, his lips tighten into a thin line. He stares down at the floor, away from those eyes that have always tried to calculate his every thought. He can’t bring himself to say a word, unable to deny it.

She doesn’t wait for a reply, and he hears the door open and shut, and he still can’t let go of the air building in his chest. His face is burning, frozen in place for five minutes before he can bring himself to continue working on the room. He tries to ignore the way his hands begin to shake.

\---

“But why do I have to be blindfolded?”

“Because it is a surprise.”

He’s pushed aside all his nerves, buried them deep so that when he leads her—his warm hand in her soft blue one—he doesn’t shake with anxious energy. Truthfully, the blindfold is unnecessary. She already knows he’s leading her to their happy room— Nott had already ushered her away every time she tried to enter. The surprise wasn’t nearly as surprising as it could have been.

“Oh, Caleb,” Jester giggles, the lilt in her voice making his heart drum just a beat faster. “You’re taking me to your _special room_ , huh?”

He ignores her, tugging her hand forward gently until they’ve reached the door, pushing it open to reveal the room he’d worked so tirelessly on. He led her forward, standing a foot behind her before lifting the blindfold. 

Jester lets out a light gasp, and he can only stand back at the door, waiting in anticipation. 

Candles in threes are lit along the shelves at each corner, incense burns to let the room fill with a sweet smokiness. He had draped the silver and white curtains along the walls to create soft waves, while the golden leaves shone bright in the candlelight. Truthfully, the hardest part had been convincing his unseen servant to hum soft tunes that were reminiscent to what he’d heard the Ruby of the Sea sing. He’d done all he could to evoke the beautiful home that Jester had grown up in—as much as one could fit in a small room. 

“Surprise!” Beauregard had been sitting on the couch with Fjord, her strange concoction of liquor in hand, smiling wide when Jester had entered.

“Oh my gosh, you guys….” She stepped around the room slowly, running her fingers along the covered walls. “You did this for _me_?”

“Yeah,” Fjord smiled, and Beauregard elbows him in the ribs. “W-Well, Caleb did most of it but we—”

“Caleb did _all_ of it, actually.”

“Hey, I contributed some coin!”

“Not the same.”

Jester spun around in a circle, her dark dress billowing around her, lavender eyes glittering with fresh tears. She stopped after a second and skipped to Caleb, her hands finding his again. 

“Caleb!” Her grip tightened in his own and her found himself too endeared to hold back a smile. “It’s like I’m home _home_.”

“Ja,” he nodded. “I have not had time to take you home, so I thought I could bring some of it to you. At least for awhile.”

She pulled him into his arms, and he felt that same paralysis coursing through his veins—arms limp at his side—his face flushed with embarrassment. But she only held onto him tighter, squeezing him till the warmth from his face seemed to spread through his whole body. 

“This is going to be so fun, you guys!” She pulled away to spin around again, still taking in the room. “We can have like a real party.”

“That’s kind of the point, Jess,” Beauregard held up her drink. 

Caleb found his way over to the table full of prepared drinks, eager to calm down his barrage of nerves. He would sit back and watch the others laugh and sing and dance. Soon enough Caduceus had come with his cup of tea—Yasha following along—and when Nott had tugged in Yeza, the room had become full of life and laughter.

Caleb whispered to his servant to play something more lively, as the others drank and soon their bodies were meshed together in awkward, playful dances. It was a sea of limbs, loud as they all couldn’t contain their joy and laughter, and Caleb finished his drink and moved onto the second—wistfully wishing he could pull himself from the corner of the room and join them. 

Every few moments, when Beauregard when spin Jester, he thought he caught flashes of dark brown hair, and the sound of sharp laughter, blue and brown eyes lit up and begging him to join their silly dances.

 _Ghosts_ , he thought to himself as he watched Jester dance up against Beauregard, as they tried to follow the music. How easy it was to blink and his friends would be replaced by those long gone.

Caleb remained a wallflower, moving around the room to readjust decorations, putting away empty glasses, using his spell slots to keep the room warm, lit, and filled with soft music. He tried his best to keep his eyes away from the blue tiefling and her warm laughter, knowing that if he looked at her too long he might say or do something he’d certainly regret the following day. But her energy never diminished even as the others grew tired, their movements slow and sloppy.

Caleb had been too wrapped up in transmuting some items back to gold so that they continued to glitter, reminiscent of the beauty from the Lavish Chateau, he almost hadn’t felt the light tap against his shoulder. Jester stands behind him, beads of sweat across her face, holding out her hand.

“Would you dance with me, Caleb?”

He swallowed slowly, noticing the room had emptied. When had all the others left? How long had it just been them?

“I-Of course.” He took her hand lightly, letting her lead him toward the middle of the room. 

“You owe me, y’know.” She put his hand on her waist, moving her own to his shoulder, leaving only a foot between them. “You were drunk the first time.”

“I was,” he affirms. That night in Hupperdook was a blur, and there is plenty he can’t remember, but their dance? He still remembers the feel of her in his arms, their slow waltzing, the world stopping just for them. He remembers it too well.

“You even called me Astrid.”

He tries not to flinch. “I did.”

His grip tightens on her waist and he pulls her closer—those dangerous lavender eyes of hers washing over him, her lips curling up into a smile. The alcohol is not so strong on his breath, but he feels it enough that the temptation to kiss her is there, dancing around in his thoughts. 

He had danced with Astrid many times to different tempos, and he’d always held her close, closer than this. But he doesn’t want to dance with her ghost, and he shakes away the memory—looking only to the woman before him, trying to follow along to the music. He leads her, one step at a time, his eyes trained on hers. He’ll commit this to memory: the way her fingers lightly tap on his back to the tempo, the sparkle in her eyes when he spins her and pulls her back to him, the slight flush of her cheeks when he dips her, the breathless giggle when she leans in close to his ear. 

They dance until his unseen servant vanishes, and even then, they seem to hold onto each other too long—as if the music is still playing in their heads, and they’ve been enchanted to dance until they collapse. But he pulls away first, feeling his face turn red, all his built up charm dissipating. 

If he were a different person, a man who could learn from his mistakes, he’d hold her longer, dance with her for another hour.

“Thanks, Caleb,” she brushes the bangs from her face, those freckles on her face awfully distracting and beautiful, and it takes everything in him not to reach out for her again. “For everything.”

“Anything for you, Lavorre.”

She moves so quickly, he has no time to prepare himself when she gives a gentle kiss to his hot cheek, and whispers so quietly, “Till we dance again, Widogast.”

She bounces out of the room so fast, only to leave him stuck in place, rubbing at his chin, eyes darting across the floor. He hears her voice over and over again, light in his ear, and he closes his eyes but he can only think of _her her her_ —every little movement, every freckle, every sound. 

He dreams of her that night, leading him away from his burning home, the flames no longer scorching him as he walks towards a river. She leads him away, away, far from the heat until all he can feel is his hand in hers.

**Author's Note:**

> The [ song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9QPxLkTHpdc) I imagined they danced to.


End file.
